


This Is Not the End

by ideserveyou, trepkos



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Afterlife, Comfort, Death, First Time, Grief, M/M, Rough Sex, Slash, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-21
Updated: 2010-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/ideserveyou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepkos/pseuds/trepkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Kai start a new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not the End

They’ve been fighting and losing for over a year, but that was the worst defeat yet.

This time, when they straggle back to their village – what’s left of them – battered and bloody, Leni works all night, cleaning and bandaging; as does her apprentice; as does anyone else who isn’t too injured themselves.

The air is heavy with the scent of burning flesh; they try not to let wounds fester, but still, some do.

It’s one defeat too many.

A few days later, when most of the men they have left are able to walk, there is a meeting outside the Longhouse.

Arthur and Kai aren’t invited – until the end.

Someone is sent to find them.

~~

Conyn appears at the door to the stables. “You’re needed,” he says, rather abruptly to Arthur’s way of thinking. “At the Longhouse.”

“Why, what’s –”

But Conyn is already heading back.

“Kai?”

“One minute.”

Kai is slapping some salve on his horse’s off foreleg, so Arthur goes on ahead.

He finds Morvan standing at the top of the Longhouse steps, with almost the whole village gathered around. A sorry bunch, with their bandaged wounds, cuts and bruises. And so many of them now wear crosses around their necks …

Perhaps that is why they are losing.

“What is this about?” Arthur asks sharply. “I did not order a council.”

Morvan seems to be bracing himself. “We’ve decided. That is … the village has decided … they want a new leader.”

“And I suppose that ‘leader’ is you, is it?” Arthur says, his voice a honed blade.

Morvan has the decency to look embarrassed. He pulls his tunic straight. “Yes. It is.”

Arthur feels the blood drain from his face.

Then Kai is at his back, as always. “What’s going on?”

“They want a new leader.” Arthur keeps his voice level in spite of the tumult inside him. “And Morvan is the one they’ve chosen to lead them.”

“Morvan!” Kai barks out a laugh. “You taught that young wastrel everything he knows!”

“Yes, and now he thinks he knows everything,” Arthur says.

“What game do you think you’re playing, Morvan?” Kai stands with his hands on his hips. “The Saxons are on our backs every hour of the day and you think _you_ are the man who should be leading us against them?”

“The Saxons are on us every hour of the day, and we’re losing!” someone shouts out from the crowd. There are general mutters of agreement.

“Arthur doesn’t know how to defeat them.” Morvan casts a meaningful glance at Kai. “Perhaps he doesn’t really want to.”

Kai is about to explode, but Arthur puts a restraining hand on him.

“That’s right!” Conyn jeers from where he now stands beside Morvan. “Keep your Saxon hound on its leash!”

Snarling, Kai breaks free and leaps up the steps towards Morvan. It takes three of the usurper’s henchmen to hold him.

“Enough!” Arthur shouts. “Let us settle this like men, not savages.” He walks past Kai, giving him a steady look, and up the steps towards Morvan, who puts a hand on his sword hilt.

Arthur just shakes his head in contempt. He stands at the top of the steps and turns to the assembled villagers, and as he looks at each of them in turn, it hits Arthur like a thunderbolt that he and Kai are the last of their generation. While they have been given due respect – at least until now – they have few friends left here.

“I know you have all suffered losses in this latest series of attacks,” Arthur says. “But I have been your leader for twenty years now, and we have –”

“Most of those years, you were trying to make peace with the Saxons when we should have been building up our defences,” Morvan cuts in.

“And who devised those defences and made you man them when you would rather have been asleep in your beds?” Kai shouts. He shrugs off the men holding him.

“It’s alright, Kai.” Arthur puts his hands on the rail, and raises his voice to the villagers. “Well? Do you want Morvan to be your leader? Is that the opinion of you all?”

The crowd shuffles its feet and looks embarrassed.

“Well, is it?” Kai demands. “Is that the way you repay Arthur for keeping you safe all these years?”

“We don’t feel very safe now,” someone pipes up.

“If you think you’ll be safer in Morvan’s hands, you’re welcome to try it,” Arthur says curtly.

Morvan stares at Arthur, confusion written all over his thin, sharp features. “Will you not fight me for the leadership?”

“You think you’d win?” Kai asks: an expression of disbelief on his face.

Arthur shakes his head. “We have lost enough men already. The Longhouse is yours. We’ll have it cleared out for you by dusk.”

“There’s no need to –”

“What? Do you expect me to stay on as your advisor and take the blame when you lead my people – _your_ people – to ruin? No, thank you. We’ll take one of the other huts. There are enough this war has left empty. Kai.”

~~

Kai stares, open-mouthed at Arthur’s retreating back.

Then he follows Arthur into the Longhouse, where he is already collecting their belongings.

There is a lump in Kai’s throat as he joins him in the task. It seems so unfair, after all Arthur has done and tried to do for these people; all that he has sacrificed – that he is being turned out of his home.

“Arthur, we have lived here most of our lives. Do we have to –”

“You see what the people think, Kai. They want new blood, and the leader must live in the Longhouse if he is to maintain his position.”

“He won’t keep it long,” Kai says vehemently.

But Arthur shakes his head; and for once he looks his 45 years. His hair is still thick and glossy, but streaked with grey; the cares and defeats of the past few seasons have etched deep lines into his handsome face, and no one but Kai knows it – no one else is good enough to find out – but Arthur’s sword-arm has lost its lightning quickness. His shoulders seem to be carrying the weight of the world, and – these days – only Kai sees his brilliant smile, and then, not often. There is little left for them to smile about.

Arthur sighs. “Frankly, Kai, I don’t wish to fight for the privilege of leading these people to yet another defeat.” He snatches up a dagger that was lying on the table, sheathes it and throws it into a bag. “And there will be more defeats, make no mistake. We are being overrun. I’m beginning to think my strategy of trying to make a lasting peace with Cerdig was wrong after all.”

Kai has always wondered whether this was not, in fact the truth, but he never dreamed he would hear Arthur say so. It worries him more than he wants to admit. “No, Arthur. You had to try.”

“If I had allowed our people to keep their animals, when the sickness came – as you told me – perhaps Cerdig would have been weakened and we would not now be at this pass.”

Arthur looks as if he has had the life sucked out of him.

“We can’t know that,” Kai says. “They might have brought more livestock from overseas, as they brought more of their cursed people. You did what you thought best – you always have. And it grieves me that for that, we must leave the home where we were raised.”

He looks around the familiar room; so many memories are woven into this place. The hearth where they would sit drinking mead on a winter’s evening – one spot on the surround still rubbed smooth where Llud’s boots used to rest.

The big table, where they feasted with their friends: most of them long dead. It still bears the scar in its surface where Arthur struck in his sword to silence the Celtic chiefs on the day he first made his alliance with them against the Saxons: by sheer strength of will bringing them round to believe in his dream of peace.

And there is the pattern of smaller gouges where Kai miserably jabbed his dagger again and again into the surface, on the day when he thought Arthur lost to him forever, but which turned out to be the day they found each other …

And over there, the door to the bedroom, which shut out everything in the world except the two of them.

Kai breathes in the warm, wood-smoke smell that has meant security and happiness to him, ever since he was a child: a Saxon orphan unwanted by the rest of the villagers.

He sighs.

It seems little has changed since then.

He looks across to where Llud’s bed stands, empty now for many years, and he is deeply thankful that the old warrior did not live to see this day.

“We have lost everything,” he says, his voice hollow.

“We still have each other, Kai.” Arthur smiles tightly. He lays a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “Come. We have work to do.”

~~

Morvan fares no better than did Arthur; they lose two men in the next skirmish, and another four in the one after that.

“Those crosses they wear don’t afford them much protection,” Kai observes with a grimace.

“There’s no defence against poor tactics, Kai.”

Kai slaps him on the back. “Soon they will be begging you to be their leader again. I’m sure they will.”

But Arthur doesn’t think so.

~~

One morning they come out of their hut to find a mob gathered around it.

“Haven’t you got the message, Arthur?”

“We didn’t think we’d have to write it in blood for you.”

“What?” Arthur’s voice is sharp.

“You’re bad luck – the two of you,” a middle-aged woman with long grey hair calls out.

“You bring God’s curse upon this village. When you are gone, we will be safe again,” another says. “Not until then.”

A man near the front, who holds a pitchfork tightly to his chest, growls, “You’re not welcome here – your kind.”

“My kind?” Arthur’s face hardens. “What kind would that be?”

The villagers just give Kai a dirty look, and this time it is Kai who has to hold Arthur back. “Take no notice, Arthur. We will go. Take our horses and –”

“You leave on foot.” Morvan steps out from among the crowd. “We need all the horses we’ve got.”

“No!” Kai hefts his axe. “You have taken everything else from us – our home and Arthur’s command. You will not take our horses. Those, we will fight you for.”

Arthur draws his sword, and Morvan steps back.

“Very well. Take them – but go quickly and take the curse and the corruption you carry with you.” He holds his cross up against them.

More of the villagers follow suit and the air is thick with poisonous whispers.

“Good riddance to the lot of you.” Kai holds his axe out at arm’s length, and swings it in a half-circle, fixing each one of them with a scathing glance. “And may the milksop you’ve chosen for a leader bring you many great victories.”

The villagers disperse, muttering amongst themselves.

So Arthur and Kai pack what they can onto their horses: blankets, hunting spears, clothing, cooking pots. Nearly forty years of their lives, spent in the service of these ingrates who are now rejecting them – Kai thinks sourly. But he looks at Arthur’s set face, and says nothing.

No one watches them go except a young man standing at the gate, who raises his hand in salute.

Arthur returns it; then they leave their home behind them and ride off into the bitter spring rain without a backward glance.

 

~~

Without having discussed their destination, they head north. They ride mostly in silence, each lost in his own memories or regrets, and as the sun is sinking low they reach Rowena’s village.

Kai dismounts, but Arthur turns his horse around, and at last allows himself to look back the way they came. Kai goes to stand beside him for a moment. Then he hears someone approaching and turns to see –

“Look, Arthur – Rowena’s here.” Kai slaps Arthur on the thigh and helps him down from his horse as she comes to greet them.

Still tall and graceful, though her waist is thickened and there are flecks of grey in her cropped hair, Rowena has been their truest friend and ally for many years, and she sees at once from their faces that something is wrong. When greetings have been exchanged –hugs and kisses on the cheek – she links arms with both of them and propels them into her Longhouse.

“It’s good to see you,” she says. “But what brings my two favourite warriors here in the middle of a hard campaign?”

With a few brief sentences, they tell her what happened.

“Your people are fools.” She blinks back tears. “Fools, who do not know what is good for them.”

“Fools who will soon be under the Saxon yoke,” Kai says grimly.

“Or more likely dead,” Arthur says. He heaves a sigh and looks hopelessly at Rowena.

Without hesitation she pulls him into an embrace. Her eyes meet Kai’s, and he nods and puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Then Rowena’s natural practicality reasserts itself. She holds Arthur away from her and looks keenly at each of them in turn.

“So I suppose you need somewhere to lay your heads?”

Arthur smiles gratefully. “Thank you for offering. It would have been embarrassing to have to ask, but we are not wanted anywhere near our own – Morvan’s village.” He bites his lip. “And this is an even bigger favour to ask, one leader to another. May we settle in your land? Build our own –”

“But of course!” Rowena says. “Take whatever you need from my store – tools or supplies. And you will stay with me until you have your own home.”

Kai begins to relax. Not all is lost. “You’re a good friend, Rowena,” he says. “Be assured that if you ever need my axe or Arthur’s sword, we stand ready to assist you.”

Arthur just nods agreement.

~~

So they build themselves a cabin in the woods. They live quietly; sometimes exchange a boar or deer they have killed for mead or bread; kill the occasional Saxon who strays nearby; ride out with Rowena’s forces if there is an incursion to be fought off.

They clear a piece of level ground near their new home and have a practice fight every day, as they always have. Kai knows it helps Arthur, having a familiar routine to stick to; and even though there is not much call for their weapons and battle skills any more, it would be wrong to allow them to grow rusty.

And there are compensations to their exile. All summer long they enjoy each other’s company unhindered, as they have never had the chance to do before. Every morning when Kai wakes, he turns to see Arthur’s beloved profile, and can enjoy the sight without having this time cut short by an alarm, or the call of duty.

Sometimes Arthur is still sleeping, and Kai can just lie there and watch him breathing; sometimes he is wakeful, and turns to look back at Kai, and smiles; and then they reach for each other, and the love and desire grows between them, familiar and yet always new.

He never tires of this way of beginning the day.

Some days they hardly get out of bed.

But Arthur seems … broken somehow. He is patient; humble; accepting of this exile, in a way Kai would not have thought possible. Kai wants to see him angry or resentful, but all Arthur will say is, “If they will not follow, I cannot lead them.”

“They will follow you again,” Kai assures him: though this is his fear as well as his hope, because he knows that only Arthur would be welcome back. “They will tire of Morvan and ask you to return.”

Arthur shakes his head. “That part of our lives is over.”

And then Rowena comes with news that Morvan has made an alliance with Cerdig, ceding half their people’s lands to him in exchange for a promise of peace.

Kai waits for Arthur to jump up from the bench and slam his fist on the table; but Arthur only shrugs, and gets on with preparing the meal.

Kai shoots a worried glance at Rowena.

She bites her lip and says nothing.

~~

One day in late summer, they are lying in the long grass on the hillside. Kai is looking at the clouds. He fancies that one of them looks like a rearing horse; one, a great fortification; another, a crown.

He says, “Your loyalty to me has cost you everything.”

Arthur turns onto his side; Kai glances at him, then resumes his contemplation of the clouds.

“How did you think this would end, Kai?” Arthur says. “With the Saxons driven into the sea, and Arthur made King of all the Celts?”

“No, but –”

“If we had stayed, we would have died in battle. It was only a matter of time.”

Arthur leans over and cradles Kai’s face between his hands. “You are not to blame, my heart. This is the way of the world. I was unable to lead my people to victory. That is the crime for which we are both paying the price. But even if it was our love that exiled us from my people, I would still have made the same choice. I still have my life, and I still have the thing that is most precious to me.”

Kai sniffs and looks away, but Arthur turns his face back and makes Kai look him in the eye. “What we did, we had to do. We were true to ourselves. We could not have done otherwise.”

Kai sighs. “I wanted you to be happy.”

Arthur plucks a dandelion clock and blows the downy seeds over Kai’s face, punctuating each phrase with a waft of white. “I am happy,” he says. “This is a good place. And we’ve had a good summer. Haven’t we?”

Kai grips Arthur’s hand; the dandelion stalk now has but a few frail tufts still clinging in defiance of Arthur’s breath.

“Even if we never have another one,” Kai says.

He doesn’t know what made him say it. He wishes he could take it back.

Arthur looks stricken, and shushes him and makes the sign to avert ill omens, then kisses him on the mouth, to stop him saying anything else.

But by the afternoon they have forgotten all about it.

~~

A few weeks later, just as the leaves are turning, they come outside one morning to find a young man sitting on the ground by the door to their hut: his horse cropping the grass nearby, alongside their own mounts.

He jumps to his feet and brushes himself down and says, “At last, I’ve found you! I looked for you through all our territory and beyond. I even went as far as Cornwall, but Mark said you had come here. I am Gwydion.”

Arthur nods. “I know. You are from my … Morvan’s village.”

Kai puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Yes, I remember you now,” Kai says, nodding. “You had potential with both sword and axe.”

Gwydion blushes.

He is tall and his hair is raven black, as Arthur’s used to be, but full of wild curls. It is the same young man who watched them leave the village: just coming into manhood, and still miraculously unscarred.

“What brings you here, Gwydion?” Arthur asks.

Gwydion’s eyes light up with anger. “Morvan is leading us to destruction. He has given away half our land, and now, thanks to him and his cronies, our village is without a proper healer, so even if we were to fight –”

“I already know about the land,” Arthur says. “But what has happened to Leni?”

Gwydion blinks and does not answer.

Kai grips him by the shoulders and demands urgently, “What happened to Leni?”

The boy can’t look him in the eye, but begins haltingly, “A preacher came. He fell and broke his arm. He was taken to Leni, to have it set.”

Gwydion bites his lip. “When he found out she could not speak, and that she used potions made from plants to heal people, the ungrateful dog branded her a witch. He said God had struck her dumb for her wickedness. He and Morvan turned the whole village against her.”

“So they drove her out?” Arthur says, frowning. “As they did us?”

Gwydion shakes his head. “I couldn’t do anything to stop them – they were too many, and all of one cruel mind.” There are tears in his eyes. “They scourged her, and then …”

“Then what?” Kai demands harshly.

“I could not stay to see it done.” Gwydion’s face crumples with the shame of it. “I knew they what they were going to do, so I slipped away. I took Morvan’s horse and fled.”

“Leni …” Arthur murmurs in disbelief. “A kinder or more inoffensive soul never lived. Every one of them owed her their lives. How could they …?”

“That’s why I have come here. I want you to teach me to fight – really fight – so I can challenge Morvan for the leadership and send these scurvy priests packing.”

Arthur glances at Kai. He nods grimly.

“Very well,” Arthur says. “But it will be hard. We live out here in the forest, find our own food. There will be little to divert you in the evenings. No girls, or –”

Gwydion shakes his head. “That’s alright. I am like you.” He looks from one to the other. “At least, I think …” He puts a hand over his mouth.

“Go on,” Arthur says, nodding encouragement.

Gwydion takes courage. “Women do not interest me. If Morvan had discovered it, my fate would have been the same as Leni’s. There is no one for me there – my parents are dead. I am alone. Please let me stay.”

~~

He stays.

Kai had feared that Arthur’s edge had been forever blunted – but what the villagers did to Leni has made it harder and sharper than before.

And it seems to do Arthur good, to have someone to train.

He should have had a son.

But Gwydion is not their son; they had not known him well before they came here, and his presence in their home changes things.

By day, Gwydion practises hard, or helps them find food, or accompanies them to Rowena’s village. In the evening they sit around the table and discuss strategy and tactics; diplomacy; the resolution of disputes; ethics, and the duties a leader owes his people.

At night, Gwydion sleeps in a cot, in the same room as they do.

Sometimes they send Gwydion out on errands, so they can get some time alone together. Sometimes they wait until they think he is asleep, covering each other’s mouths with one hand.

~~

But he is awake, and listening, with longing, to the soft sounds that escape them. He is touched by the love he feels just by being in their presence, but he envies them too, and the growing certainty that he will always be alone strangles him like ivy on a young tree.

On this night they have all drunk too much mead; perhaps that is what has given him the courage to do it. Tonight it is Gwydion who waits until _they_ are asleep.

He crawls under the covers from the bottom of their bed, and slides in between them, his face towards Arthur, his back towards Kai.

Kai stirs and grunts, then throws an arm over him.

Gwydion lies very still, until the two men’s breathing is calm and even again.

When they wake, they will probably kill him for this transgression, but he doesn’t care, because all he wants right now is to touch and to be touched.

Arthur is half-hard against his thigh, and Kai is shuffling closer to him; Gwydion’s prick is aching. He longs to press himself against either one of these men he admires and has come to love.

He is just gathering courage to make his presence known when Arthur’s eyes flick open. He freezes Gwydion with a single glance. “What are you doing, Boy?”

Gwydion’s throat closes up. “I … I wanted …”

Kai jerks awake and props himself on an elbow. “What? Oh …”

Arthur’s teeth are clenched as he says, “If you think a young fool like you can come between us –”

“No, that’s not what I want!” Gwydion cries out. “That’s the last thing I –”

“Go easy on him, Arthur,” Kai says. “He’s just had too much to drink, that’s all. And it’s a cold night. He probably –”

“No,” Gwydion says. Kai is offering him a way out, but he can’t take it. “I want … I haven’t …”

He wants to tell them he has never felt another’s touch upon him, but he can’t.

“I was lonely,” he finishes lamely.

Whatever happens now, he has brought upon himself. He waits, to be banished entirely from their company.

But Arthur’s face softens. He glances at Kai, and something must have passed between them, because Gwydion feels Kai squeeze his shoulder; feels Arthur’s hand skim his flank and come to rest upon his hip.

He gasps and closes his eyes. His whole body flexes within the space between them, as he tries to get more contact with them.

“Steady now,” Kai says, stroking Gwydion’s belly. “No need to rush things. Just let us take care of you.”

Kai’s words – a soft rumble in his ear – send a throb to his loins, but Kai must have known what the effect would be, because he slides his hand down and takes a firm hold on him, mercifully preventing his immediate release.

Then Arthur presses a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Thank you – for seeking us out.”

“I didn’t mean to –”

“You didn’t mean to seduce us?”

Gwydion hears the tolerant smile in Kai’s voice. He sighs and leans back against Kai. “No, I didn’t,” he says. “But could you blame me if I had?”

He sees Arthur smile; how wonderful it must be for Kai, to see that brilliant smile, every day of his life.

“On his back, don’t you think?” Kai says to Arthur, as though Gwydion were but their chattel.

A shudder runs through him; his hips jerk, out of his control.

“I agree,” Arthur says. “On your back, Boy.”

His heart beating wildly, Gwydion complies.

“That’s better,” Kai says. He still hasn’t released his grip, and that is just as well, because now Arthur leans across Gwydion to kiss Kai on the mouth.

Gwydion feels a tidal wave of love and desire wash over him. This kiss is for him too. His lips feel tender. They are so close – their hair brushes his face, and he wants to touch them, but he’s afraid that’s not permitted, so he keeps his hands fisted by his side. He has to clench to stop himself coming in spite of Kai’s hand.

When they break apart, Arthur glances down at him then back at Kai, and says, “I think he liked that.” He flips back the covers so they can all see just how much Gwydion liked it, and Gwydion looses a low moan.

“Why shouldn’t he?” Kai brushes a lock of hair from Gwydion’s forehead, and he too leaves a kiss there. “But it’s not fair to tease.”

“Let’s help him along then, shall we?” Arthur says. He takes Gwydion’s balls in his hand.

“Very well.” Kai leans across and presses another soft kiss on Arthur’s lips.

Gwydion’s breath is coming in weak, astonished gasps. He has wanted this so much – he can’t believe that it has come to pass. That Kai is working his prick and Arthur is caressing him, and that rather than looking at him as though he were a lowly worm who should be kissing their feet, they are both caring for him in his need.

Arthur’s thumb is teasing Gwydion’s lower lip, and Gwydion bites down gently on it; Arthur presses it into his mouth, and works it around inside.

A low moan rises in Gwydion’s chest; Kai speeds up the movement of his hand, and murmurs reassurance in his ear, and Arthur slides a finger down between his buttocks and he can’t hold on – he comes with a cry, and is shattered into pieces.

They clean themselves, and him, as he lies there – unmoving, apart from the flutter of his stomach as he gets his breath.

Arthur strokes his forehead, and says, “Is this enough for you?”

Gwydion swallows, and opens his eyes wide.

Kai grins. “I think it is not!”

Gwydion can’t help but smile ruefully back. “What must I do?”

“Just relax,” Kai says. He eases Gwydion’s thighs apart and gets between them.

~~

Arthur has never been with anyone but Kai, and he knows he should be jealous; but he also knows that a word from him will send Gwydion from their bed. And is there not enough sadness and disappointment and loneliness in the world? Should he not take some of that away if he can, instead of adding to it?

So he will pass Kai the grease, and he will watch through hooded eyes, as Kai prepares Gwydion to accept him.

Kai’s fingers press inside, and soon Gwydion’s face is bathed with sweat; his hair straggles damply across his forehead. His eyes are wider than before.

“Arthur?” Kai says, offering Gwydion to him.

Gwydion gasps and looks from one to the other.

“You,” Arthur says. “I want to watch you.”

Kai tilts his head. “Alright then.” He grazes his lower lip with his tongue as he looks down at Gwydion; then he flexes his fingers, and the young man arches off the bed with a cry.

“Ready?” Kai says.

Gwydion nods, unable to speak.

And Arthur strokes him and soothes him, and looks into Gwydion’s eyes and holds Gwydion’s hand as Kai enters him.

~~

Gwydion grips Arthur’s hand tightly. He is panting with the effort; adjusting to having Kai inside him. Kai’s arms are braced either side of his head, caging him. Kai seats himself, and as he begins to move, his languid thrusts touch that place inside Gwydion, sending sparks shooting through him again and again, and Gwydion needs someone to touch his prick.

He closes his eyes and murmurs, “Please …”

Arthur kisses his cheek, snakes a hand through the tangle of limbs and takes hold of him.

And Gwydion can’t help it. He says, “I love you. Both of you. Please don’t … don’t hate me for saying it.”

“Hate you?” Kai says. “No.”

“But save it,” Arthur says. “For when you find someone who can return it with their whole heart. As I did.”

~~

If you had told Kai this might happen, he would have called you a fool. He is inside another man, and Arthur is watching … consenting … helping Gwydion along. The world is turned upside down.

Kai feels Arthur’s gaze upon him. He can’t last much longer, and it makes him harder still to know that when this is over, Arthur will reclaim him.

The face of the young man beneath him wears a blissful expression, as he lets Kai take him and rock into him and do whatever he will.

Then Kai feels Arthur caress and squeeze his balls, and it’s too much. He jerks and comes, rending the air with his cries, and Gwydion moans and comes with him, Arthur easing him through it.

They all look from one to the other; their eyes shine.

“Thank you,” Gwydion breathes: “… so much … but I need to –”

“I too,” says Kai.

Each man frees himself as best he can, and both Kai and Gwydion pull on enough clothes to keep themselves from freezing while they go to the latrine.

Kai lets Gwydion go first, and when Kai is done, he comes back to find Gwydion standing outside, a cloak wrapped around him.

“Are you alright?” Kai asks.

Perhaps it was all too much for the boy. Kai is somewhat astonished himself.

“Never better,” Gwydion says with a grateful smile. He puts a hand around Kai’s shoulder and pulls him into a hug, which Kai returns.

“Not coming in?”

“I think I’ll stay here and look at the stars,” Gwydion says. “Just for a while.”

“Thank you.” Kai slaps him on the back. “But don’t stay out too long. You’ll freeze.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again,” Gwydion says.

So Kai goes inside, to where Arthur is waiting for him.

~~

It’s a cold winter morning, and Arthur and Gwydion are arming themselves for their daily practice bout.

Kai straightens Arthur’s collar and says, as usual, “Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” Arthur, as usual, replies.

As Gwydion pulls on his boots, Kai holds Arthur close for a few moments and steals a swift, blissful kiss.

He is instantly hard, and Arthur looks down and whispers, “Later.”

“Is that a promise?” Kai murmurs.

“Of course,” Arthur says, his face lighting up.

He has such a beautiful smile. Even after all these years, it still melts Kai’s heart.

Once again, Kai says, “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry. It’s only an exercise.” Arthur turns to Gwydion. “Come on, then.”

Kai watches them head over to the practice ground together, then goes to chop logs by the woodpile. They’ll be needing more soon; there is every sign this winter will be a cold one.

As he crosses the yard a short while later with an armful of kindling wood, he glances over to see the two figures circling each other, the rhythm of their clashing swords coming faintly to his ears on the wind. He smiles at the sight.

Then he goes into the house and begins to stack the wood in the hearth for tonight’s fire.

But as he kneels by the fireplace, he stiffens. Something is wrong. For a moment or two he doesn’t know what; then he realises.

The sound of weapons has ceased.

He hears a faint, horrified cry: “Arthur!”

Gwydion’s voice.

His heart goes cold; he scrambles to his feet, and starts to run.

~~~

It was only an exercise.

And yet Arthur is on the ground, blood staining his tunic, and Gwydion is standing with his sword dangling at his side, staring in shock at what he has done.

Kai pounds up to the practice area, lands on his knees in the mud beside Arthur, and tears off his own shirt to stanch the bleeding.

But Arthur’s face is white, and he is shaking; his eyes are blank; his lips move but no sound comes out.

“Arthur! No! No! No! Stay with me!” Kai slaps Arthur’s face, trying to keep him from going into the dark. “Look at me! Arthur, hold on, you can’t –”

“It’s … better this way, Kai,” Arthur says, focussing on him with an effort of will. “Better to go this way than –”

“No! No, it’s not better than anything, don’t say that, please.”

But Arthur is slipping away from him. His eyelids flutter.

“I was … too slow. Don’t … don’t blame the boy.”

Kai turns an angry glance at Gwydion. “Don’t stand there like an idiot – get water, something to bind this wound.”

Gwydion sets off.

But Kai knows he has sent the boy on a fool’s errand.

With the last of his strength, Arthur grasps Kai’s arm.

Kai leans in close and just catches Arthur’s faint whisper: “I shall wait for you … my love. You – you have my word …”

The light fades from Arthur’s eyes, and he is gone.

And Kai feels fear such as he has never known before.

He takes Arthur’s body by the shoulders and shakes it. “No, you can’t, you can’t leave me. What will become of me?”

Then Gwydion is by his side, holding a cup, a pail of water and some clean cloths; staring blankly at what is on the ground.

Kai jumps to his feet, and yells, “You’re too late. Too late, do you hear me? Why did you have to come here? Why did you?”

He shakes Gwydion until it seems the boy’s head should fall off; then he lets go, and lets fly a blow that puts Gwydion on the ground six feet away, and bellows, _**“A fighting man in practice has a duty to be careful.”**_

Then he turns and sees his Arthur lying lifeless on the cold ground.

Oh.

Arthur is dead.

It hits him again, like a horse at full gallop; he collapses to his knees, his head bowed to the ground, his body shaking with sobs that threaten to break him apart.

~~

Gwydion stares at Arthur.

He can’t believe it.

He has killed Arthur, he has killed Arthur.

But it can’t be.

It should not have been possible.

Arthur has been his hero since Gwydion picked up his first wooden sword.

He has dreamed of the day when he will follow Arthur into battle. He has listened intently to every lesson Arthur would impart … but he forgot the most important one.

A void opens up inside him, threatening to swallow him whole.

He falls to his knees next to Kai; dares to put an arm around Kai’s shoulders, but Kai elbows him in the face, hard, and hunches over again, his hands covering his face.

Gwydion lies sprawling in the mud, wiping blood from his nose and watching one of his heroes weeping over the body of the other. And he is crying too.

He crawls back to them, tugs on Kai’s arm, and says, “Kill me.”

Kai’s face, twisted with misery, turns towards him. “What?”

“Kill me. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t want to live.”

“Do not tempt me, you selfish brat,” Kai snarls. “You think I don’t want to? You think I wouldn’t rip every limb from your body if it were not for Arthur’s word? Do not make me disobey him at the last.” Kai’s eyes are full of diamonds. “Get out of my sight.”

But Gwydion just curls up on the ground.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Kai demands.

“I don’t know where to go.”

~~

If he but knew it, the brat has said the one thing that will reach him in this dark moment. And when Kai looks at the young man lying there, waiting for him to do whatever he wants with him – wreak bloody vengeance if he will – he sees his own reflection.

Kai bows his head onto Arthur’s chest once more.

“Wood,” he says quietly. “We need wood. Lots of it. For the pyre.”

~~

They cut wood and build the pyre. It takes all day. It is mindless work which they both do in a daze, sometimes stopping just to stare at Arthur’s body, or at each other, or at nothing at all.

At last the pyre stands ready.

Kai goes to where Gwydion stands staring at it. He taps him on the arm. The young man jumps backwards, but when he sees the look on Kai’s face, he takes a step towards him. They wrap their arms around each other, and brush tears from each other’s faces.

“Help me …” Kai gestures towards the body. More tears come. Kai dashes a hand across his eyes.

When they have composed themselves, they lift Arthur onto a cloak, which they carry between them to the hilltop.

It is horribly awkward, getting it to the top of the pyre. Gwydion is hauling on the cloak from the top when it snags on a branch and Arthur’s body jerks upright, then topples down onto Kai, nearly making him lose his balance.

Kai stands there for a moment, just holding the cold body in his arms. He buries his face in the familiar softness of Arthur’s hair, and wets it with still more tears.

But it is just a body. Arthur is not there.

Kai sniffs and lays the dead shell gently down on the cloak again. “Come on,” he says. “One last push.”

~~

The pyre burns all night. In the morning, when Rowena rides up, they are both still sitting upon the ground, staring at what is left.

“No!” She claps a hand to her mouth.

Kai stands up to greet her. He can’t make his legs move away from the pyre, but he says the words he hoped he’d never have to say in earnest: “Arthur is dead.”

He feels his legs give way; Rowena’s strong arms catch him as he falls into darkness, and for a time he knows no more.

~~

Kai wakes. He is in bed in their cabin, under furs and blankets. He turns his head on the pillow to see …

Utter hopelessness fills him up and overflows. There is a dead weight in the pit of his stomach, but still he feels completely hollow.

There is someone moving about. That boy. He is still here.

Why is he still here, and Arthur, gone?

He has nowhere else to go.

Kai doesn’t care whether he goes or stays.

There is only one man whose presence he cares about, and that man will never come again.

Kai wishes he had died when he fell down on the hilltop.

He curls up into a tight ball, and cries until he has nothing left.

~~

After hours or maybe days, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He opens eyes that are sore from weeping and looks blankly at Gwydion. “What?”

“Kai, you must have something to drink. And you must eat – you’ve had nothing for two days.”

Kai heaves a sigh, and takes the beaker of water from Gwydion’s hand. He takes a sip; it chokes him. Then Gwydion gives him some bread soaked in fresh goat’s milk. Kai eats a few mouthfuls.

It tastes of nothing.

He lies down on the bed again and closes his eyes.

~~

For the next few days, Gwydion looks after Kai as best he can: tries to make him eat, bathes him; keeps the fire burning. He talks with Kai when Kai wishes it, and patiently endures the silence when he does not.

In between, there are fits of uncontrollable rage.

Those times, Gwydion sits in the corner with his hands covering his mouth, watching with tears running down his face, as Kai yells and curses and stumbles about the hut, throwing things and pounding his fists into the walls until they bleed.

And when Kai is exhausted he throws himself down on the bed once more and weeps until he is unconscious.

~~

“I don’t know what to do, Rowena. He won’t eat. He barely takes a cup of water, never mind milk or meat or mead or anything else. He spends nearly all day in bed. He is wasting away.”

Rowena shakes her head. “Arthur and Kai have been together since they were barely old enough to hold a weapon. And Kai is very stubborn. He must mourn in his own way. What, a lifetime of love and friendship, and you think he should forget so soon? He does not wish to be comforted, and you cannot comfort him. You have offered him sustenance. There is nothing else you or I can do for him.”

“Yes, there is,” Kai says faintly.

They turn in surprise.

“Rowena …” He reaches out a shaky hand to beckon her closer. “There is something I would ask of you.”

She goes to sit on the edge of the bed, and bends down close to Kai.

His voice sinks to a murmur. Gwydion can’t hear what he says, but Rowena’s face turns pale.

Before she leaves, she leans over the bed and kisses Kai gently on the cheek. Gwydion hears her say, “Very well. When the time comes, let me know.”

~~

With every day that passes, Kai grows a little weaker and a little thinner; his face is gaunt, and his hair has turned quite white.

Each night, Gwydion offers to stay with Kai, thinking to share the warmth of his body, nothing more – but Kai shakes his head and turns away.

Until one night, when Kai looks at him with eyes devoid of hope, and turns down the covers, and Gwydion goes to him, ready to give whatever Kai will take from him.

Though he has seen how thin Kai has become, it is still a shock, when he takes Kai in his arms, to feel the change in him – from the proud, confident man who took care of him with such assurance and power, to this pitiful, wasted figure whom he holds so gently for fear of hurting him. And still he has to fight down his own desire, because there is some quality in Kai that can never be taken away.

Kai buries his face in Gwydion’s neck and cries himself to sleep.

After that Gwydion sleeps in Kai’s bed every night: sometimes ignored, sometimes in Kai’s arms. He doesn’t try to touch him – not that way. He will not presume to covet that part of Kai that was Arthur’s; he has no right to it.

But there comes a night when he wakes to the feel of Kai’s hardness, insistent against his thigh, hot and desperate. Then Kai rears above him and holds him down with a strength Gwydion would not have thought possible, though he offers no resistance.

And Kai spreads him, and takes him, dry and unprepared, thrusting and tearing at Gwydion’s body as though seeking for something deep within it that is not there, or trying to hurt Gwydion as much as he has been hurt himself, and Kai is screaming Arthur’s name when he comes.

Afterwards Kai turns away and lies on his side: his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Gwydion waits, hugging himself, and shedding bitter tears, for his own pain, and for the two great men he has destroyed. Only when he is sure Kai is sleeping does he slip out of bed and limp away to find water, and wash the blood away.

Kai does not speak to him for two days; they go back to sleeping alone.

But on the third night Kai looks up at him and takes his hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says quietly. “So sorry …”

“I forgive you,” Gwydion says. “I hope one day, you can forgive me.”

Kai shakes his head. There are tears in his eyes. “You didn’t deserve …”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gwydion says. He slips into the bed and lies beside Kai, and to his surprise, Kai turns to him and kisses him very gently on the mouth.

Gwydion gasps, and is shamefully hard. He tries to pull away; Kai must not know.

But Kai draws him in close, reaches across to take him in hand, and works him with such care and tenderness that soon Gwydion can bear it no longer and comes, weeping and cursing himself; pressing himself against Kai’s side; and afterwards Kai holds him as he cries.

Gwydion wishes he could tell Kai again that he loves him. But it would be so very wrong to say such a thing when he has taken the man Kai loved away from him. Arthur’s death has broken Kai’s heart.

All Kai has left to give to Gwydion is kindness. Even that is more than he deserves, but he is grateful for it.

~~

The next morning Kai seems unusually calm, and asks, “Will you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

Kai takes a deep breath. “Ride to the village, and fetch Rowena. Tell her, Kai says, ‘the time has come’.”

~~

Gwydion returns well before noon, with Rowena at his side.

She greets Kai with her usual warmth and affection, but Gwydion can see that she is holding back tears, and he is sore afraid of what this means.

He busies himself about the hut, leaving Rowena sitting at Kai’s bedside so the two of them may talk in private. When he glances their way, he sees Rowena slip a small stoppered flask into Kai’s hand, and Kai stows it carefully in the breast of his tunic.

After more conversation in low voices, Rowena gets up to take her leave.

Kai says, “Rowena.”

She turns back, and he takes her hand. “You are a true friend. Thank you … for everything you have done for us. And most especially for not taking Arthur away from me.”

She smiles. “Llud always used to say that there were some things even the greatest warrior could not fight. You two together … that was one of those things. The gods could not have fought it. I could not have fought it, and I am glad that I did not try. Well, not very hard, anyway …”

She bends to kiss his cheek once more. “You are sure you do not wish me to stay?”

“Quite sure.” Kai’s face is grave and calm. “Goodbye, Rowena. And thank you… from both of us.”

Gwydion helps Rowena onto her horse. As she rides away from the homestead, he sees that she is weeping, and his heart is cold with foreboding as he goes back inside.

He finds Kai getting out of bed, his legs unsteady and unwilling to bear him.

“Take me to the hilltop,” he tells Gwydion.

“Are you sure –”

“Take me, or get out of my way,” Kai says.

Gwydion comes and puts a shoulder under him, supporting him.

When by slow, painful steps they have reached their destination, Kai looks at the remains of the pyre – like the carcase of some huge sea beast.

“We must build another,” Kai says. “Here, where Arthur’s stood.”

Gwydion swallows. “Why?”

He already knows the answer, but he does not want to believe it.

“Because I will be needing it soon. If we leave it any longer, I will be too weak.”

“Too weak?”

“Too weak to climb up it.” Kai laughs grimly. “What, do you think you can haul my dead weight up there on your own?”

Gwydion bites his lip. “A light breeze will take you up there, the way you’ve been eating.” A tear trickles down his cheek.

Kai brushes it away with his thumb. “Do not weep for me, my friend.”

Gwydion chokes on a sob, and looks into Kai’s face. “How can you call me that? After what I’ve …”

But Kai takes Gwydion’s face between his hands and says, “Do not torment yourself a moment longer.” He takes a deep breath. “What happened … it could have happened a thousand times before. It could have been I who killed Arthur, or he who killed me. You drew the short straw.”

“Then why are you punishing me like this?” Gwydion shouts, more tears stinging his eyes.

Kai shakes his head. “No … I am not punishing you. Never think that. But my time has come. I am ready, and Arthur will be waiting for me. He said so. And Arthur always keeps his word … if he can.”

Gwydion falls upon Kai’s neck.

“Shhh,” Kai says, patting his back. “Come. Let us gather wood together.”

~~

The sun is setting in a blaze of red and gold as Kai climbs shakily to the top of the pyre and lays himself down on the blankets that Gwydion has spread for him.

Gwydion covers him with furs and more blankets, and makes him comfortable. He lays Kai’s round shield and short sword at his feet, then brings him his axe; but Kai shakes his head, handing it back to him.

“I will not need this, where I am going – but you will.” He flashes a grim smile. “None of Morvan’s lot know how to fight against the axe – as witnessed by their capitulation to the Saxons. You should have no trouble taking back our village, with the skills we’ve taught you. Why, you’re nearly as good with the axe now as I am.” He smiles ruefully. “As I was. And I know you will be a worthy leader.”

Gwydion shakes his head, and once again offers the axe to Kai; but Kai again refuses. “It’s a good blade,” he says. “Take it, and put it to good use – and remember us, and the good times.”

So Gwydion takes the axe and lays it nearby, under a tree. He brings Kai a cup of water. Kai takes it and empties it, then pulls Rowena’s flask from his tunic.

“What is it?” Gwydion asks. He feels cold.

“A last gift from Rowena,” Kai says, very quietly. “I asked her for something to ease my passing, so that neither of us would have to suffer while I died a little more each day. She had her healers prepare a draught of hemlock. It is not too painful … so they say.”

Gwydion wants to take the flask and fling it far away; but he sees there is no help for it. He loosens the stopper for Kai, and Kai removes it and raises the flask to his lips.

~~

Kai looks at Gwydion’s face.

The boy has gone beyond tears; beyond speech.

Kai shakes his head and pushes the stopper carefully back into the neck of the flask. “Lie with me here a while,” he says. “If it is not too cold for you.”

Grateful for anything that will stay Kai from this terrible thing he is about to do, Gwydion crawls under the pile of furs and blankets, and lies with his body pressed against Kai’s.

Kai raises a shaking hand to point at the heavens. “See that form in the sky – a man with a belt of stars?”

Gwydion stares at the stars. “I see him.”

“You too will go to the stars one day. All great warriors do. Arthur is up there, somewhere, and when I am gone, I will be there too. When your time comes, have no fear but that you will join us there.”

“So, where is Arthur?” Gwydion says in a small voice. “Can you show me?”

Kai puts an arm around Gwydion’s shoulder and pulls him closer still. “Arthur is just over the horizon,” Kai says. “But you may see him one day, if you just keep looking. And you will see me too.”

Gwydion swallows around the lump in his throat and says, “You know I never meant you any harm.”

Kai ruffles his hair. “I know.”

He gives Gwydion a last, soft kiss, and they hold each other.

Then, while Gwydion’s face is buried in his neck, he twists the stopper out of the flask and drinks the poison down in a single mouthful.

~~

Gwydion doesn’t know exactly when Kai slips away; but in the morning Kai’s body is cold in his arms, and the sun is bright in the sky.

It hurts his eyes.

He rearranges Kai’s favourite cloak over him, and presses a kiss to his forehead. Then he climbs down, and sets fire to the base of the pyre.

Within an hour, Rowena appears at his side, and puts an arm around his shoulders, and together they watch the flames destroy everything Gwydion has left.

Except for Kai’s axe; and the one thing he has still to do.

This pyre was not so large nor so grand as Arthur’s, and by midday just the charred remains stand atop the hill.

“They are at one with each other now,” Rowena says. “With each other and with the land they loved.”

“I loved them too,” Gwydion says hoarsely.

“I’m sure they knew that,” Rowena says.

“I told them,” Gwydion says, blushing.

Rowena looks sad. “Then you have more wisdom than I, for I never did.”

“They knew,” Gwydion says. “You were the one they came to when they needed help.”

She hugs him tightly. “They cared for you too,” she says. “Kai asked me to look out for you, as I would Arthur.”

Gwydion closes his eyes, and just breathes for a moment, his head bowed to Rowena’s shoulder.

Then she releases him; he picks up the axe, and they turn to go back down the hill.

“Would you have married Arthur, if it hadn’t been for Kai?” he asks her.

She shakes her head. “Everyone always thought that. Even Arthur, I think. But I couldn’t tell them the truth.”

Her eyes are bright with tears as she looks back at the faint wisp of smoke rising from the top of the hill.

“It was always Kai,” she whispers. “He was the one who stole my heart.”

~~

Gwydion rides through the damp forest on Arthur’s white horse, heading for his village. Arthur’s village. He grips the haft of his axe; his face is set.

He has a task to do.

Behind him a third column of smoke is rising.

Gwydion set light to the homestead before he left, to make sure that he could never go back to that empty house.

~~

It is a beautiful spring morning, and the sun is high.

I haven’t seen Arthur for days. He has been away on a campaign, and left me behind to deal with some important matters.

But I have received word from him that he has won his last battle; there is peace in the land, and today he will be coming home.

I am wearing a new tunic.

I stand at the top of the hill looking out for any sign of his party – the horses and men who are returning from the fight.

But I can’t see anything. They should have been here by now. Where are they?

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Is this new?” Arthur says. “I like it very much.”

“Where are the others?” I ask him. “Where is your sword? Your horse?”

“I came by a different way,” he says. “I had to leave them all behind, if I was to meet you here.”

I frown. I don’t understand. “But you need your horse. A mounted man is worth ten on foot.”

“The fighting is over now, Kai.” Arthur smiles.

How my heart melts when he smiles at me.

I don’t say it, but yet he answers me: “I will do it more often, then.”

He kisses me. “And you will too.”

And I believe him.

Arthur keeps his word.

~~


End file.
